


Heaven Help Me

by orphan_account



Series: Tumblr ficlets — series one – Angst [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Dean-Centric, Destiel Angst, Drinking, Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kinda, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Roses are red violets are blue titles are hard and summaries too, Sad, Sad Dean, Sad Dean Winchester, Spoilers for Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, s12e23 coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 20:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11471169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Coda to 12.23 "All along the watchtower"





	Heaven Help Me

**Author's Note:**

> Please note I have watched it only once, two days after it was aired.

Silence.

Dean wants silence.

He barely notices Sam's leave.

He falls to the ground and looks up.

“Please! Please! Someone! _Someone, save us!_ Please! Please…” it starts almost normal, but after the first word, he breaks and he screams and cries.

The last word is barely audible, soft, broken.

No. Not broken. _Shattered._

 

He looks down and sees drops falling on the dirt.

_Tears._

More and more tears.

He can still hear the sound of Castiel falling and hitting the ground.

Lucifer's laugh.

Crowley's last gasp, pained but resigned.

The portal closing after his mom.

Castiel's breath of surprise when…

Castiel falling and hitting the ground.

Castiel's _body_ hitting the ground.

Cas’s last breath.

_Cas’s body hitting the ground, lifeless._

 

Dean can still _hear_ it all and it _hurts._

He can still _see_ it all and it _pains_ him.

He just wants it all to stop, but it doesn't.

It keeps playing. He _hears_ and _sees_ it.

 

_Be quiet._ He prays _please, be silent. Please. I want quiet. I don't want to hear a thing._

_Be invisible._ He begs. _Please, be transparent. I want complete darkness. I don't want to see a thing_

 

He takes his car and drives, leaving Sam behind.

He stops by the first cheap motel he finds on his way.

He goes to sleep, scenes still playing in his mind.

 

He swims in darkness.

He almost drowns in it.

He doesn't know if it's just his eyes closed or he's sleeping.

Is he even breathing?

Maybe he's screaming for someone to pull him out of the darkness before he drowns.

Maybe he's just waiting to hear his phone rings.

Waiting to answer and hear the oh so familiar 'hello, Dean.'

 

Maybe it's all of them, he just _doesn't know_.

 

When the sun comes out, he starts driving again, he hates this drive.

South east.

Towards the sun.

Towards the light.

It makes vision more clear.

It makes events be more real

He stops by a church, maybe the silence and darkness of the halls will put him in peace?

He keeps hearing and seeing, maybe if he tries here, someone might listen.

 

“Please.” He tries again. “Please stop it all. If I can't get him back, at least let me forget. Please!”

Nothing.

Just the same as before, the sounds and fights keep playing in his head.

It's even worse now, the silent, empty halls make everything echo.

It echos in his mind, and he runs away.

He stops by a bar, and drink for hours. Doesn't look at anyone. Just drinks his sorrow away.

He tries to drown the sounds and sights inside with the world outside.

Lights flickering in the otherwise dark room. People dancing and drinking and playing pool and gambling on other things.

Smell of sweat, cigarette smoke, alcohol, and a hundred different perfumes.

Sounds of bass and drums that he can feel down to his muscles. People talking, maybe to him, maybe not. He doesn't care.

All of this helps just a bit, and when someone gets angry by him, they're both kicked out.

Drunk or not, Dean has no fighting spirit. He barely even tried to protect himself. He just takes the blows and beatings.

This pain isn't as bad as what he feels.

He tastes rust and salt and he spits out blood, at least his teeth are still in place, but he never stops _hearing_ and _seeing_.

He tries, once again.

What are steps leading to a bar different than the steps and halls of a cathedral or any other temple?

Aren't all humans equal in front of the divine?

He spits blood and prays again.

 

To never hear it.

To never see it.

To never remember.

 

But no one hears him.

Or they just don't care.

 

Whatever it is, Dean gives up.

That night, Dean gets rid of the last memory Cas and he shared.

The small is terrible.

Dean watches as it burns.

As the flames devour their way.

Consuming and advancing.

Grazing the number 13.

 

 

  



End file.
